Longing

I haven’t posted here in a while. Let’s see how this goes.  

I now long for days where the shadows grow longer and the worst of the weather can be shielded away by copious amounts of layers.

I’ve grown fond of the cold, maybe it’s the dire heat of the days I walk in today but I also believe in a new warmth that has awakened within me. It is a quiet and temperate heat that has begun to accompany me ever since I met you. I’ve found comfort in this warmth.

I look forward to days where the wind will be less harsh and caress us instead with a cold that is kind. Yes, I know the days will grow shorter and night will be upon us much quicker, surprising us in a way that doesn’t make any sense as every year it is the very same. I’m not sure if it’s just me but I will never get used to way the sun dips beneath the horizon sooner or later as the year goes by but the darkness will do for there is always so much light in this city and just as much radiance in you.

Hydra

Hydra
I see it now,
it stands afloat a blue that calls upon our longing
it’s as if someone placed a piece of land
atop an exotic cocktail.
But the smell of salt gives up this illusion,
There are no ethanol vapors here, no spirits
except our own.
Hydra
There she is,
Lonesome yet bustling,
There is life here,
But quiet and considerate.
Cohen lived here you know,
he fell in love and wrote on love here,
I think the waters still hold his words.
I picture him staring out across a windowsill,
Wondering about this ship that approaches,
Did he foresee us as ghosts?
Gosh, what a fright we must have given him,
Scared him half to dead did we.
Hydra, there it is
How long has it stood there,
among waves, among wars
And now among us.

somewhere

I’ve always fallen for the notion
that people make places,
that there is nothing special
about here or there,
not if the ones we call our own
are there to see it,
It’s you and I that breathe the words
which define a place.
Home is not a home,
Scenery isn’t scenery,
Not until we’ve called it so.
And just like that,
I think “somewhere” would essentially be
Nowhere,
Not unless we had seen it,
Not unless it’s name had passed through our lips.

Stories

Are we moving pictures,

Silhouettes that float

Against the backdrop of the unknowable?

We try so hard to remember

And yet we’ve forgotten some of our stories,

Lost episodes whose fragments float aimlessly

As echoes in outer space.

When they’re heard,

If they’re heard,

I wonder if it will quicken the listener’s pulse

Or have we been so lucky to be one among few

To know of what words can do to the heart?

Backwards

The future holds in its hands, nothing.

In the copious time I’ve held my gaze at it

All I see is this white place,

A docile sheet of paper laying on a desk.

Sometimes there are lines draw across it

As if tempting me to fill them with words I do not have.

Maybe that’s why I keep looking backwards,

And no, not in a simple glance over my shoulder either.

My entire being faces the past and everything it encompasses.

In it I see the riches of moments and the spoils of nostalgia.

It is quite a view.

23.

So I turn 23 today, apparently.

It’s been a few years since I’ve written one of these self reflective pieces so I think I’ll give it a go this year.

Where am I at? I’m not quite sure. I remember saying something similar last time I wrote one of these. I wonder if it means I’ve not made any progress. I feel that much has changed but in such a way that nothing seems to have. I feel calm tonight and not even the sweltering heat of the Middle Eastern summer makes me feel restless. I’d like to think that this is due to song I’ve been listening to today.

It’s one that I saved to my playlist quite a while ago but today I decided to hear it again. It’s called “The Long Way” by this Irish band called The Coronas. I don’t know what it is about it but it’s the type of song that makes you feel nostalgic about the future. Is that even possible? When I listen to it I see myself, aged and grey, still trying my best to walk ahead of the people in front of me but I also see someone walking beside me. And somehow this memory, that doesn’t exist yet, transitions to a cool night where the wind is a temperature that’s kind to my skin and yours, whoever you are.

Maybe we’ll make a bonfire, who knows?

 

Ode to Soul Savers

You are a gift
To my soul,
For you water it
With an essence
That only spills
From your lips.
You shimmer it
With a light
That doesn’t cast
A shadow,
And yet
leaves others
and myself feeling
Just as safe
As if we were hiding
In the shade.

A Vision of You (I)

There you are again,

As I find myself back pedaling

Whilst you are turned aside.

We are heading

In separate directions,

Away from the end of something special

Well, maybe just for me.

But this is not the end,

I say it in my head

And politely ask it of you

In my imaginary voice.

You must be someone

Who’s come from above,

For as I thought this prayer

I swear you could hear it.

Circles

Inspired by the words of the wonderful, Himani 🙂 

My search has me
Wandering in circles.
For years I’ve wondered
Why this is?
Why is it that we,
Who search for the wonder of love
Always seem to finish where we start.
Love seems to be the journey
To finding those first footsteps
We left in the sand,
All those years ago.

I’ll Wait Some More

I promise

I’ll take less photographs,

capture more moments

with my eyes,

my ears and most of all

my heart.

For what’s more memorable

than a feeling?

I’ll go searching for things

that quicken my pulse

and keep my eyes wide open.

I’ll sit and stare

for as long as the moment lasts

and then I’ll wait some more.